


Sing for Me, Songbird, Sing

by HollyJolly, Smul_shinya



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Wings, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 14:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyJolly/pseuds/HollyJolly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smul_shinya/pseuds/Smul_shinya
Summary: All that Noct can really remember is a routine. His cage. Tests. Whistles. His song. And of course, his Master.





	Sing for Me, Songbird, Sing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smul_shinya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smul_shinya/gifts).



> smul_shinya: Holly I command you as baby prince to TO WRITE ME THIS WHUMPY  
> HollyJolly: A;SKDJF;AJ I MEAN I CAN PUT IT ON MY BACK BURNER  
> smul_shinya: Nu owo now  
> HollyJolly: PFFFT MIGHT TAKE A WHILE  
> smul_shinya: OWO I give you an hour good luck
> 
> I will have you know that I finished within nearly a half hour. Self-beta'd cause why not extra torture?

"Time to wake up, my little songbird."

 

Thick lashes flutter at the familiar sing song voice. The young, hapless prince slowly wakes and metallic ringing chimes out as he slowly shifts. Pale skin, ghostly white and littered with purple blotches, stands out against the dark, against the cold metal he sleeps on. Against the tuft of shredded feathers at his shoulder blades. The iron of his cage creaks and swings as he comes to.

 

The ornate and metal cage of a flightless, pitiful bird that Noctis has become. Has always been since he can really remember.

 

As Noctis sits up, the  _ chink _ of a key and lock ring out and he hears a whistle. He sings back. His morning bird song. Beautiful and a sign that he is ready to start his day.

 

"What a good bird you are." The voice coos. A hand slinks out of the darkness and there's only a slight bit of hesitation before Noctis leans in. He nuzzles his cheek against worn hands that scrape against his soft face, calluses rough but inviting nevertheless. He can hear the voice chuckle and the hand withdraws. 

 

Another whistle, another tune. Noctis sings the melody right back and crawls to the entrance of his gilded cage. 

 

Hands grasp at him and he can only allow it as he has no strength to fight back. Why should he? That was not what he was trained for. No, he can--and will--only let limbs arrange him so they can lift him up and out of the bars. Noctis allows himself to nuzzle the chest pressed against his body. He's allowed this comfort.

 

He's taken out of the darkness and the light hurts. Cobalt blue orbs close at the harshness of the artificial lights that greet him. Everything is metal still as he watches the walls pass by. He looks up.

 

A smug face, coarse hair he knows by touch, and eyes that are shadowed by the hat he wears, the long red hair that shapes his face. This is his master. His beautiful and kind master. He has a name. He knows his name. But Noctis doesn't dare ever say it. He is master and surely would be punished for calling him something besides that.

 

Master glances down and smiles warmly at him. "Is my little raven ready for another exciting day?"

 

Noctis can only feel warmth as his master gives him that look. He nods. Master looks so happy. Master hums a tune as he takes him down the halls. So he sings along. Noctis knows that whistling is a command, but humming not so much. He won't get in trouble for singing along, might even get rewarded for singing without prompting. 

He wants to be a good song bird. Only sing the prettiest songs.  
  
Soon Master takes him into a room and it’s familiar. He hates it. Noctis was hoping that it would be Master’s room, the one with a soft nest and familiar smells. This is the cold room. This is the room that--  
  
“Ardyn, I see you’ve had your fun with our subject.”  
  
Noctis freezes at the new voice. It’s the man. The man with such a low, gravely voice that only gives him pain. This room belongs to this man. The whole place does, he thinks, but this room is the room he fears the most. 

 

A chuckle from his master as he’s sat on the cold table. “I too have my own experiments I wish to test, Chief Besithia. Surely they don’t interfere with your own.”

 

“No,” the gruff man says with a huff. “No they don’t. I just rather not have images of your indecency in my head as I work.”

 

Master chuckles and pets Noctis’ head. “Come now, it is nothing you haven’t seen before. Why, I remember when--”   
  


“Don’t give me reason to let my knife slip, Chancellor Izunia. I can still find tests to run on you if you so wish.”

 

Noctis watches Master grumble and sit against the wall. He hates when Master is upset and he hates this man with many knives and sharp instruments that constantly belittles him. Master takes it in stride though so maybe that is why Master likes him. Why Master takes him back to him time after time.  
  
The sharp sound of metal against metal rustles about in a drawer and Noctis whimpers as he sees his least favorite thing pulled out. It’s large and in a straight line are iron teeth. Teeth that cut and dig and rip through the bones and muscle that grow out of his back. It brings nothing but pain and he knows it’s going to be used again.  
  
Noctis knows he cannot have his beautiful wings of black but for a while. They grow like weeds from his shoulder blades, coming back time after time. Only tufts of feathers linger. They are not big enough for anything but shedding and covering up the stumps that will surely grow back again. Painfully.

 

Master must sense his fear and already has his arms on him. Noctis wants to flee, wants to fly from this place, back to his cage. It’s safe in the cage. But he barely has the energy to resist even his master turning him around so he is on his pale stomach. Just enough energy to shake and muster up tears in his eyes.  
  
“Ma-master…”  
  
He shouldn’t talk. He’s not allowed to talk at all. Oh how bad he is!

 

But Master just tuts and pets his head.

 

“Oh, it’s alright, my precious, little one. We just have to fix this persistent problem of yours once more.” Master’s voice is soft like a soothing melody and Noctis lets himself still as he settles. “Once we are done here, we shall go to my chambers and you will get pampered so well.”

 

Master tilts his chin up and kisses him. He feels the tease of his tongue against the press of his lips and wants more but Master is already pulling away with a delightful hum. Noctis nods. He...wants to be good. Wants to be in Master’s room and be spoiled by him.

 

If that means staying still, being silent as his wings are hacked and sawed off once more.

 

Then so be it.

**Author's Note:**

> Like? Like FFXV? I got the tweeter. It's @HollyJollyPaca. Go over there and scream at me about Ardyn.


End file.
